


and map my face out line by line.

by redhoods



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 08:52:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18385094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: Fjord hums, head tilting like he’s considering it, but he leans down to unlace his boots, toeing them off and nudging them out of the middle of the floor. He pulls his shirt up from where it’s tucked into his trousers and as he starts to ease it up, his back and shoulders start to protest. Pausing, he breathes out heavily through his nose and tries again.“Liebling,” Caleb is right there when he lowers the shirt, his own shirt already gone and concern written on his face.Swallowing, Fjord still shies away from it, even after all this time, but Caleb catches his elbow and he nods slowly, “I’m having a bit of trouble,” he admits quietly, because they’ve been working on this too.





	and map my face out line by line.

**Author's Note:**

> more schmoop, are you surprised?
> 
> highkey inspired by [this art](https://twitter.com/itsalexdoodle/status/1112869916435271682?s=20) by itsalexdoodle on twitter. i'm in loooove.
> 
> so you can't tell me that fjord doesn't have scars like crazy. he was in an explosion, very close to said explosion. and washed up on a beach. there's not really room for proper healing in all that, ya feel? anyways, i had a lot of thoughts and feelings about all that.
> 
> title is from i'm yours by the script which is like. Super Fitting.

“Caleb?” The door to their room isn’t locked and nudges open easily after Fjord bumps it with his hip, “You didn’t come down for dinner.” He adjusts his grip on the tray in his hands, not wanting to dump the contents on the floor, and when he finally glances into the room, it’s to find Caleb in the same place he’d been two hours ago.

It’s no less amazing to him now, the way that Caleb can dial in to whatever he’s working on with single minded focus, but Fjord wishes it wasn’t always at the cost of him eating.

Caleb’s filled out more in the time they’ve known each other, especially when Caduceus had gotten very concerned about the visibility of Caleb’s ribs when they’d had a moment to breathe and hit up a bathhouse. But he wasn’t the heartiest of them.

Not wanting to disturb Caleb’s work or accidentally knock over an ink well, he slides the tray onto one of the bedside tables, before he approaches the desk, “Cay, I know you heard me.”

There’s a soft huff of amusement for Caleb and he tips his head back, “Yes, liebling, I heard you,” he’s not upset, more amused, “I wanted to finish this spell while I was still focused,” he adds as Fjord steps up behind his chair.

He leans forward to peer at the paper, “Looks almost done,” he says as he drapes his arms over Caleb’s shoulders.

“Ja, you’re correct,” Caleb smiles at him and then turns back to his spellwork, “I’ve made sure you will have paper and ink to do your own,” he adds and Fjord can’t see his face, but he can picture it, the way his eyes crinkle at the sides and his tongue pokes out just a little as he copies the delicate lines of the runes of all his spells.

Fjord absently rubs his thumbs up along the sides of Caleb’s neck and back down, listening to the scratch of his pen, “I appreciate that, love.”

Caleb hums and presses back into his hands, “What did you bring up with you?”

“Stew and Caduceus’s herb bread,” he answers, curving forward a little more when Caleb sets his pen down and replaces the cap on his ink, “Oh and I might have snuck some pie.”

“You certainly know how to tempt a man,” Caleb tilts his head back again, hair brushing Fjord’s stomach and eyes crinkled with how hard he’s smiling.

Fjord laughs, “I’d like to think I’ve become particularly good at tempting you,” he says and leans down to press their lips together. The angle is awkward and not the most pleasant, but he still can’t stop the quiet pleased rumble in his own chest, pressing his palms flat over Caleb’s chest, feeling the pound of his heart. 

He eases back and gently nudges Caleb’s shoulder, “You eat and I’ll see if I can get at least one of my spells copied over.”

Caleb hums and nods, arranging things carefully on the desk, “The ink has already dried in my book, so you should be ready to go,” he explains as he stands from the chair. He brushes a kiss over Fjord’s cheek before going to the bed.

“Thank you,” Fjord says quietly and waits to make sure Caleb’s actually eating before he sinks into the chair.

It always takes him far longer to copy spells than Caleb does, his own hand far more clumsier, far less used to the process, but he’s been getting better with Caleb’s help and patience. He’s not sure how time passes before a hand slides over his shoulder and squeezes, but he’s got most of one of Caleb’s easier spells copied onto paper and his hand is cramping a little.

He caps the ink bottle and places the pen in its spot.

“You’re getting faster,” Caleb says, his voice a rumble against the back of Fjord’s head, “Before too long, you’ll be able to work as fast as I can.”

Fjord scrunches his nose, “If, big if, that ever happens, it’s because I had a good teacher.”

Caleb laughs, “Flatterer.”

“Will it get me places?” He asks, tipping his head back and getting a kiss to the nose for his trouble.

“Come on, you don’t want to stay hunched there all night,” Caleb tells him, tugging a little at his arm, until Fjord stands as well.

When he looks, the tray is gone and it’s much darker outside. He’s started to understand more and more how easily Caleb loses himself to his spellwork, it’s a slippery slope. Caleb backs away a little and starts his process for getting ready for the night and Fjord smiles as he watches him.

It doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, Caleb still works his way around the room with his silver thread. Caleb catches him looking when he finishes and grins, shaking his head, “You’ve seen me do this every night and yet -”

“I like watching you work,” he says as shameless about it now as he had been when they’d first met.

Caleb shakes his head, but he doesn’t refute it as he sits on the edge of the bed to remove his boots, “Are you going to get ready for bed or watch me?”

Fjord hums, head tilting like he’s considering it, but he leans down to unlace his boots, toeing them off and nudging them out of the middle of the floor. He pulls his shirt up from where it’s tucked into his trousers and as he starts to ease it up, his back and shoulders start to protest. Pausing, he breathes out heavily through his nose and tries again.

“Liebling,” Caleb is right there when he lowers the shirt, his own shirt already gone and concern written on his face.

Swallowing, Fjord still shies away from it, even after all this time, but Caleb catches his elbow and he nods slowly, “I’m having a bit of trouble,” he admits quietly, because they’ve been working on this too.

Caleb nods, “Lets get this off,” he says and it’s a strange process, having someone help him out of his shirt, but it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last time. It takes Caleb stretching up onto his toes and pressing gently at Fjord’s arms and shoulders, manipulating his body with a gentle familiarity until the shirt slides off his head and hits the floor.

Fjord straightens and rolls his shoulders back with a wince, “Thank you.”

“Go lay on the bed, I’ll get the oil,” Caleb says and most nights that would kick his ass into gear, eager and willing, but this isn’t that.

He shucks his pants and tosses them in the vague direction of his pack before he walks over to the bed. Before he lays down though, he tugs the blankets down out of the way, then flops down on his belly, stretching out. He listens to Caleb rustling in his pack and trades the pillows out, mashing his cheek into Caleb’s pillow so that all he can smell is Caleb.

The bed dips and then Caleb’s weight settles around his hips, “Normal rules apply,” he says quietly and Fjord is already nodding against the pillow, “Let me know if it’s too much, if I need to ease off a certain spot, if you need more pressure.”

“I will,” he says, voice half muffled, because he knows Caleb won’t start until he agrees.

“Gut,” Caleb says and then there’s oil dripping on his back. Hands follow shortly after as Caleb works the oil over his skin, and most of it Fjord can feel, but there are places where the scar tissue is too thick for him to feel any of it.

Once the oil is spread, the simultaneously best and worst part starts as Caleb starts digging in with his fingers, working from the small of Fjord’s back up his spine, “Fjord,” Caleb’s voice is admonishing and Fjord presses his face a little harder into the pillow, “you are supposed to tell me when it’s getting bad.”

Fjord winces, groaning softly when Caleb digs his fingers into a particularly bad spot, “We haven’t been anywhere to do anything about it.”

“Fjord.”

Whatever rebuttal Fjord had had for that is lost when Caleb reaches the worst of the scarring, where he might not be able to feel the skin, but he can certainly feel everything under it. This area and his shoulders are the worst of his problems and it’s never not painful when Caleb digs into it. At least in the beginning.

He knows he’s just got to tough it out, wait for the muscles to loosen, and then it’ll be leagues better, but getting to that point is always a struggle.

“I’m sorry, liebling,” Caleb’s hands lift up briefly and Fjord whines softly at the loss, but they come back noticeably warmer and press back into the area. Fjord turns his face fully into the pillow, resisting the urge to actually sink his teeth into it, even if he knows his claws are in danger of puncturing the sheets where he’s holding on.

It takes time, but the dig of Caleb’s fingers into his back goes from excruciating, to tolerable, to pleasurable. He’s barely hanging on to consciousness, practically melted against the sheets when Caleb finally stops, pressing a kiss to the center of his back, “Better?”

Fjord turns his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Caleb, “Much,” he muffles, still half in the pillow, “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome,” Caleb replies quietly, tipping forward to press a kiss to the corner of Fjord’s mouth, before sliding sideways to land on the bed next to him. “Next time, you need to tell me,” he adds, arms opening as Fjord shuffles closer to him, tucking his face under Caleb’s chin.

There’s no point in arguing with Caleb, so he nods, “I will, promise,” he says, mouth pressed against Caleb’s neck.

Caleb’s hand comes up, fingers dragging through Fjord’s hair and scritching down the back of his head and neck, “Good. I do not like the idea of you being in unnecessary pain when I can help.”

“Oh.”

“Ja,” Caleb makes some gesture that Fjord can’t see, but the candles around the room snuff out, “It’s never an inconvenience to take care of you, no matter where we are.”

Fjord’s glad Caleb can’t see his face like this, because he’s not sure what Caleb would see, “Thank you, that means a lot.”

The hand in his hair pauses for a brief moment, “You mean a lot to me, Fjord, and I will keep telling you that if I need to,” Caleb’s voice is serious, but warm and Fjord shudders out a quiet breath against his throat, but Caleb isn’t done, “You are my family and I love you.”

It takes a minute for his heart to calm down, but Caleb is quiet, giving him his time. Fjord swallows and pushes up on his elbow so he can see Caleb’s face, “I love you too,” and then kisses him before his mouth can get away from him.

It’s a chaste kiss, a simple, soft brush before Fjord eases back. Caleb’s smiling, a small thing that still has his eyes crinkling, and Fjord ducks his head, unconsciously hiding his own smile as he resettles, face pressed into Caleb’s neck once more. “Good night, liebling,” Caleb murmurs, sounding amused as his fingers scrape through Fjord’s hair again.

“Night, Cay,” he mumbles and struggles a little to get the blanket up over the two of them before slinging his arm over Caleb’s middle and settling in, eyes already drifting closed.

He’s just on the cusp of sleep, but still feels the kiss that gets brushed to the top of his head as he drifts off.

**Author's Note:**

> tis short and sweet. come yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/red_hoodsy) and [tumblr](http://redhoods.tumblr.com).


End file.
